


i need you more than i can take

by bloodyhalefire



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (yeah will wears hannibal's shirt what abt it), Choking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Frottage, Getting Together, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Sharing Clothes, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Will Graham, Will Graham Knows, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, its lowkey though, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyhalefire/pseuds/bloodyhalefire
Summary: Hannibal is sitting in his study reviewing documents when he hears a knock at his door. It’s so late in the evening that he briefly considers ignoring it, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he gets up.To say he’s shocked at the sight that greets him when he opens the door is an understatement.“Hannibal,” Will breathes, sounding relieved,“Hannibal.”
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 324





	i need you more than i can take

**Author's Note:**

> title from "figure 8" by ellie goulding ,,, this song is in my hannigram spotify playlist that i linked in the end notes
> 
> i hope you enjoy <3

Hannibal is sitting in his study reviewing documents when he hears a knock at his door. It’s so late in the evening that he briefly considers ignoring it, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he gets up. 

To say he’s shocked at the sight that greets him when he opens the door is an understatement. 

“Hannibal,” Will breathes, sounding relieved, _“Hannibal.”_

The boy in front of him looks so weak and disoriented that Hannibal can’t help himself from briefly surveying his driveway for Will’s car, worried that he had driven himself here. He’s relieved to see that the only car there is his own. 

Hannibal opens his mouth to invite him inside, but before he can say anything Will throws himself at Hannibal. “Are you alright?” Hannibal asks as he automatically wraps his arms around Will and holds him close to his chest; Will is shaking in his arms and he’s panting. 

He receives no answer, but after a minute of silence Will pulls himself out of Hannibal’s embrace and takes a few steps back. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, casting his gaze downwards. 

Hannibal turns and closes the door before stalking back up to Will, stopping once they’re a few feet apart. He stares at Will and waits for him to look at him again, but he never does. Hannibal clicks his tongue chidingly. “Will,” he whispers as he guides Will’s eyes back to his with a finger under his chin. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Will responds in a hushed tone, tears beginning to run down his cheeks; Hannibal reaches out and cups Will’s face in his hands. “I don’t know.”

Hannibal tries to wrack his brain for any kind of situation that occurred today that may have triggered Will. Other than the fact that he had accompanied Jack and the rest of the team to examine a crime scene, he comes up short. 

After a second it dawns on him. 

“How was the crime scene this afternoon?” he inquires; Will looks puzzled at the question, obviously believing Hannibal's question to be a non-sequitur. 

“It was fine. I mean it was messy,” he says slowly, confusion palpable in his voice, “but that’s to be expected, I guess.”

“And you used your empathy, I presume?” Hannibal questions.

“Of course. The only times I even go to crime scenes is when Jack wants to borrow my _imagination.”_ He says the last word wryly. 

And just like that, it fully clicks; he is frustrated at himself for not making the connection sooner. 

“Oh, my darling,” he says as he slowly closes some of the distance between them. “I think I know what’s wrong.”

“Why do you think you know when I don’t even know myself?” Will asks with a blink, his expression befuddled. “But what is it?”

Hannibal takes a deep breath. “Seeing as you have always helped whenever your ability is called upon, it is clear that the utilization of your empathy and the mental state it puts you in takes a toll on you. As such, it seems that today was your tipping point.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Hannibal,” Will grumbles. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.”

He shrugs. “It was not my intention to do so. I was only pointing out an observation. Though there is another _much_ more curious observation than the first,” Hannibal whispers as he takes another step towards Will. “The fact that you have allowed it to get here yet still haven’t realized is beyond comprehension.” The hypocrisy of the statement is not lost on him.

“Realized what?” Will asks breathlessly, most likely overwhelmed by their closeness. 

“How selfless you are,” he whispers. “You’re always so quick to help that you pay no attention to yourself and the consequences of it. You’re so good, Will.”

“I'm far from selfless and I’m even farther from being good,” Will mumbles, his cheeks flushing a bit at the praise, “you of all people should know that. I’m a fucking mess, Hannibal.”

And it is only when he is about to respond that he realizes that they are still standing in the entryway of his home, which is _not_ the place that Hannibal wants to continue this conversation. 

“Come with me, my dear,” he says in lieu of a response as he leads Will upstairs to his bedroom. Once they arrive he maneuvers Will so that he’s sitting on the edge of his bed before crouching down in front of him. 

“Now, I must admit that I am inclined to agree with your earlier comment,” he acquiesces, and even though it was Will himself that initially refuted his statement, his eyes still reflect a bit hurt for a second. “You swear much too often for my taste, and you can be a bit troublesome.”

Will blinks. “That’s not the answer I was expecting.”

It’s Hannibal’s turn to blink. “What were you expecting, then?”

He shrugs. “Maybe something about my encephalitis? Or the fact that I literally just showed up at your house in the middle of the night and almost had a panic attack in your entryway?”

“Mylimasis,” Hannibal murmurs as he gently strokes his thumb across Will’s cheekbone. “You know who I am. For _months,_ in fact. You know what I’ve done and what I continue to do, and yet you haven’t told a soul.” 

“I would never do that. I _couldn’t,”_ Will mumbles. 

And though Hannibal (thankfully) doesn’t have a visible reaction to the statement, his heart skips a beat. He places his other hand a few inches above Will’s knee. “It fills me with joy to hear that,” he says quietly before gently squeezing Will’s thigh and standing up, “as well as pride.”

Will’s eyelashes flutter and he whines, and it’s so quiet that it’s almost completely inaudible. “Hannibal,” he says reverently. The only way Hannibal can describe the tone of Will’s voice is desperately submissive. 

And with that, Hannibal's last ounce of self control is gone; he abruptly puts his hands under Will's thighs and shoves him fully on the bed before crawling over him, trapping him in. 

Hannibal can’t stop his eyes quickly flicking down Will's mouth before looking back up at him. “Is there something that you want, Will?”

“Kiss me,” he practically begs. “Please kiss me.”

Hannibal is helpless but to comply. 

He surges forward and smashes his lips to Will’s with enough force that, had they been standing up, would’ve surely knocked them backwards. Will moans as he clutches his fingers into the back of Hannibal’s suit jacket and grinds his hips up. 

After a few minutes of this Hannibal pulls back, and he can’t help but smirk at the way Will tries to follow his lips. When they never reconnect, Will releases his hold on Hannibal’s back, his arms dropping back onto the bed as he opens his eyes with a disappointed frown; Hannibal is amazed to see that after only a few minutes of kissing, Will looks positively wrecked.

Will opens his mouth to protest when Hannibal speaks first. “You look positively gorgeous like this, my darling. You’re so good for me.”

Obviously caught off guard by the words, the only response Hannibal receives is a broken whimper. It’s only then that the reality of the situation truly hits him. 

"You've needed this," Hannibal wonders aloud. “You’ve _craved_ this.” He can hear Will’s breath catch in his throat as he flushes. "You have, haven't you?”

Will attempts to play off the question with a little shrug despite the fact that the blush on his face just increased tenfold. Other other than that, he says nothing. “You know better than that, my dear Will,” Hannibal chides. “I want to hear you say it.”

Will flushes in embarrassment and averts his gaze. Hannibal presses a hand on Will's throat as a means of shocking the boy into looking back up at him. 

But that’s not what happens. Instead, Will squeezes his eyes shut and whines; the sound he receives leaves Hannibal with a hungry curiosity. 

“Do you like that?” Hannibal asks as he slowly removes his hand, his surprise clear in his voice. “Do you like the feeling of my hand around your throat?”

“Yes,” Will rasps. “Please.”

 _Oh_ is Hannibal going to have an amazing time with this one. “Please what?”

“Please don’t stop,” he begs. “Please touch me.”

Hannibal wraps his hand around Will’s neck and squeezes a bit harder than before as he swiftly lowers himself onto Will and slides his thigh between his legs. He rocks into Will teasingly, and the noise Hannibal is met with is full of pure need; the scent of Will’s desperation is so potent that Hannibal can’t help but growl. 

“You have no idea how long I have desired you,” he whispers as he begins kissing down the column of Will’s neck, relishing in Will's desperate little moan. 

Hannibal sucks at his pulse point before biting down on the juncture between Will’s neck and shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “I lied when I said I didn’t find you that interesting,” Will breathes, a confession which has never been said. “I’ve always found you interesting, and I’ve wanted to be yours since the day you showed up at my hotel.”

While Hannibal may pride himself on his ability to mask his emotions, he is only a man. He can only restrain himself so much before he snaps. “You have been, my dear Will,” Hannibal murmurs as his tongue laps at the blood on Will’s neck. “You have been mine since the day you walked into Jack’s office.”

Will whispers as he frantically nods. “All yours.”

Hannibal slowly moves his head to the other side of Will’s neck before biting down, this time a bit more gentle. Will’s hips grind up against his leg and he whispers at the friction it brings him. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you're so responsive,” Hannibal murmurs. “How long has it been since someone else has touched you?” 

Will bites his lip. “Years,” he says, and the confession is so quiet Hannibal barely catches it. “It’s been years.”

Hannibal can’t help but chuckle at that. Will looks away in embarrassment. “Don’t mock me, Hannibal.”

He huffs another laugh, though this time it’s more in disbelief. Mocking? No. Quite the opposite, in fact. In reality, Hannibal is struggling to comprehend the fact that nobody has attempted to take Will to bed in such a long time (not that Hannibal is complaining, because knowing that he is the only one that gets to see Will like this after so long ignites something inside him that he doesn’t have a name for). “Darling, it was not my intention to come across as such. I was simply in a state of disbelief that it has been that long of a time,” he elaborates before smirking. “Though this does explain how sensitive you are. I can only imagine the noises you will make once I truly put my hands on you.”

“Touch me then,” Will demands, though it sounds much more like a plea than anything else; the sheer boldness of the statement catches him off guard in the best way, and he’s feels a burst of pride and affection that the boy was able to work up the bravery to at least attempt to demand something from him in this setting.

He rewards Will for this by reaching down and roughly palming at his cock. 

“Hannibal,” Will chokes out as he grinds up into Hannibal’s hand in a desperate attempt to gain more friction; the way that Will is shamelessly rutting against Hannibal's hand paints the most beautiful picture. 

Yet Hannibal still removes it a minute or so later, and the noise that Will makes at the loss is pitiful. “I think it would behoove you to learn a bit of patience, my dear Will.”

He gets a weak glare in response. “You can’t be serious.”

“You should know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t do so in such an intimate setting, my darling,” Hannibal says. “And as such—“

“Wait,” Will blurts. 

Hannibal raises an eyebrow. “It is rude to interrupt you know.”

“Please at least take this off,” Will says as he desperately pushes on Hannibal's suit lapels in an attempt to remove it. 

Hannibal catches Will's hands in his and holds them still. “Hannibal,” Will gripes in frustration. “Come _on.”_

Instead of responding, Hannibal simply grabs Will's shoulders and hefts him up so that they’re both sitting in front of each other.

“No, wait,” Will says frantically once he realizes that Hannibal has completely pulled back. “I’m sorry about the jacket and I'm sorry for interrupting, please don’t leave.”

Hannibal blinks at Will's reaction. It speaks volumes in regard to where his headspace is and solidifies his earlier suspicions that Will had hit a wall today, the stress and energy that empathizing takes has finally caught up to him—his defenses are down, and his juxtaposing fears of intimacy and abandonment are on full display. Hannibal feels heart clench. 

“Hush, my love,” Hannibal murmurs as he cards his fingers gently through Will's hair. Will leans into the touch. “That was not my intention.”

He then reaches for the hem of Will’s shirt and slowly lifts it over his head before unbuttoning Will's jeans and pulling the zipper down. Despite the befuddled expression on the boy's face, he lifts his hips up so that Hannibal can pull them off. “This was my intention,” Hannibal whispers as he leans forward and places a quick kiss on Will’s lips. 

It is then that the coldness of the room hits his bare skin, and it truly dawns on Will that he’s down to his boxers he frowns. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Hannibal asks humorously, and the weak glare he gets in response makes his lip twitch. 

Then, as if afraid to be stopped again, Will slowly reaches up to Hannibal's tie and begins loosening it. And although his hands are shaking a bit, Hannibal is still aware of the cautiousness in which he carries out the task; the intimacy of the act is not lost on him. 

Once Will gets it off he leans over and places it on the nightstand by Hannibal's bed; he places it down with care, smoothing it out so that there are no creases or wrinkles. The thoughtfulness of the gesture renders him helpless but to do anything other than fulfill the boy's earlier request himself—Hannibal shrugs his suit jacket off, placing it onto the bed behind him and unbuttoning his shirt. When Will turns back around and sees that Hannibal is finally undressing, his eyes light up and he smiles. He then grabs the jacket and smoothes it out next to Hannibal’s tie; just as Hannibal is about to toss his shirt onto the floor Will rips it out of his hand. Before Hannibal has the opportunity to say anything Will puts it on and buttons the bottom half of it. Hannibal's breath catches in his chest at the sight before him—a ravaged looking Will wearing only his boxers and Hannibal's white dress shirt, which is falling off of one shoulder since it’s about a size too large. 

When Will reaches forward to unbuckle Hannibal's belt, Hannibal grabs his wrist and pulls him forward onto his lap so that Will is straddling him and Hannibal’s back is resting against his headboard. Hannibal takes a long and deep breath. 

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Hannibal purrs as he reaches out and yet again presses the heel of his hand against Will’s cock, and he whines at the sensation. “Your scent entwined with mine as you're waiting in anticipation, desperate and ready to take whatever I'll give you.”

Will blushes and sends an embarrassed glare Hannibal’s way before nodding. Hannibal smiles. 

“Oh, my darling boy,” he sighs as he lifts his hands to cup Will's face and presses their lips together. They kiss like that for a while, tender and soft, before it shifts to something passionate and desperate and frantic. Will pulls him impossibly close while Hannibal grips Will’s hips and pulls him even closer to him. Will hisses at the movement, and it’s only then that Hannibal realizes that action made Will grind on his thigh. 

“I told you earlier that you were good,” Hannibal says slowly before asking, “do you want to be good for me, now?”

Will nods frantically. 

“Now what did I say earlier,” he chides fondly. “Use your words.”

Will looks at Hannibal with a desperately annoyed and pleading expression. “Yes,” he breathes, “of course. Always wanna be good for you.”

Those words combined with the look on his face floods Hannibal with an emotion he can’t name, and he crashes their mouths together in a rough kiss. 

When Hannibal eventually pulls back, Will’s chest is heaving and he’s struggling to catch his breath. He loves how responsive Will has been, and it would be a lie to say that Hannibal wasn’t just as bad; even so, Hannibal refuses to advertise just how affected he is by everything that’s happening. Under no circumstances will he break composure and put all of his feelings on display. 

“Can I, um,” Will starts, though he trails off before he can finish. 

Hannibal is not having that. “Can you…” he prods gently. 

“Can I get off on your thigh,” Will blurts so quickly that it takes Hannibal a minute to process what he’s even said. “Please."

And while Hannibal abhors messes, the thought of Will coming from grinding against his thigh alone paints such a delicious picture that Hannibal doesn’t care in the slightest. “Of course, my love.”

That’s all it takes for Will to start grinding down on his thigh in earnest; he reaches forward and grasps at Hannibal’s chest in an unsuccessful attempt to find purchase. Hannibal, to his part, places his hands on Will’s hips for support. “That’s it, darling, just like that,” he praises, and he’s surprised to hear that his arousal has made his accent stronger, “you look so beautiful like this. Working yourself into a fit just from riding my thigh. It’s positively shameless. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so good,” Will answers with a high pitched whine. “It feels really really good.” 

Hannibal finds himself entranced at the image in front of him—by this point the front of Will’s boxers are so wet that Hannibal can feel his dress pants dampening. “Are you getting close, my love?

A wounded noise escapes from Will’s throat as he frantically nods; Hannibal’s inquiry did not halt his movements at all. 

Hannibal shifts his leg to match Will’s pace as he pulls him into a heated kiss, and Will whimpers at the sudden new sensations. He cards his fingers through Hannibal's hair before he clenches his fists and pulls at it with a desperate moan. Hannibal hums appreciatively. 

It goes on like that for a while before Will pulls away, overwhelmed—despite the fact that he obviously isn’t considering stopping, Will is practically whining and whimpering with every movement. It dawns on him that, despite being so close to release, Will is still waiting for Hannibal. For Hannibal’s _permission._ Hannibal smirks at that: he loves the rush of power it brings him.

However, even though there’s a large part of him that wants nothing more than to keep Will on the brink for hours simply because Hannibal hasn’t commanded that it stop, there's a larger part of him that wants to see Will’s face when he climaxes. 

“Come for me, darling.”

All it takes is that sentence for Will to come in his boxers with a broken cry; he falls forward so that he’s lying on Hannibal’s chest.

Hannibal reaches up and places the palm of his hand on the top of Will’s head for a minute before slowly carding his fingers through Will’s hair. Once Will’s breathing finally evens out, Hannibal gently moves Will off of his lap and stands up. “Where are you going,” Will mumbles. “Come back.”

At the request he turns to finally look at Will in all his glory, and the sight he’s met with is something that he will _never_ forget—Will is lying flat on his back with his resting on Hannibal’s pillow; his eyes are half-lidded in what Hannibal can only imagine is exhaustion with his lips noticeably swollen, the marks Hannibal left on Will’s neck are so blue and purple that they almost looks black, the front of his boxers are soaked, and he’s still wearing Hannibal’s dress shirt. 

He looks _wrecked._

Hannibal forces his eyes away and answers, “I am simply going to get a warm towel to clean you up. I can’t imagine you’re very comfortable like that.”

Will frowns at the wording, and then his eyes open wide. “You never got to...”

Hannibal huffs a laugh, smiling fondly as he shakes his head. “I didn’t, no.”

To his surprise, Will sits himself up. “Then why are we stopping?”

“Tonight was about you, my dear, not me,” Hannibal responds, and when Will opens his mouth to protest Hannibal holds up a hand to silence him. Will snaps his mouth closed so quickly that Hannibal heard his teeth click together despite the distance. “You also look on the verge of collapse.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Will mutters sheepishly, glancing down and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“No apologies necessary,” Hannibal says gently. Then he smirks and adds, “there’s always next time.”

Hannibal then pivots and walks to the bathroom before he can see Will’s reaction to his bold declaration; he hears a sharp intake of breath from behind him. 

When he returns to his room he stops in his tracks. Will is curled up into a ball with his face buried in Hannibal’s pillow. “Will?”

Will doesn’t open his eyes. “This is nice,” he mumbles quietly, “comforting.”

“What is?” he asks, and his confusion is reflected in his tone. 

Will snaps his eyes open and finally registers Hannibal’s presence. “Let’s clean up,” Will blurts as he shoots out of bed and quickly strips out of his boxers and whips himself down. As soon as he’s done he scrambles back to the bed and gets under the covers. 

Hannibal is slower, though that may be because he’s wearing more clothes. Once he gets his belt and pants off, he also cleans himself and walks to the bed. Will is staring at him unblinkly with a nervous and cautious expression. 

He maintains eye contact with Will as he pulls the blankets back slowly so as not to spook Will; right before he climbs into bed Hannibal notices that Will is still wearing his dress shirt. He opts to say nothing, but the shock must show on his face because Will blushes. What Will does next shocks him even more—he shuffles over as soon as Hannibal is settled under the blankets and wraps an arm across Hannibal’s stomach, resting his head right above Hannibal’s heart. 

“Your scent,” Will says suddenly. “Your scent is what I was talking about.”

Hannibal smiles. “I am glad that I am able to provide you comfort, even if it’s indirectly.”

Will hums in response before nestling even closer to Hannibal and tightening his hold; Hannibal reaches up and starts gently petting Will’s hair. Will falls asleep soon after, his breathing evening out and his body relaxing.

Having the love of his life asleep in his arms fills him with enough confidence to confess to the empty room the one thing Hannibal has wanted to say for months. “I love you, mylimasis,” Hannibal whispers before leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to Will’s curls. 

He closes his eyes after he says it, so Hannibal doesn’t see that Will’s eyes snap open at the confession.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH i hope you enjoyed this bc its my first work in the fandom (i also only betaed like half of it so if u notice any mistakes pls let me know lmao)
> 
> [my tumblr](https://mysticdevils.tumblr.com/post/640935074647474176/every-time-i-try-to-link-my-tumblr-in-the-end)  
> thank you so much for reading !!


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